<b>GIANNI </b>
‘Anything else you want to discuss with Costello when hees?”
“Hmm?” I barely heard Roger’s question. He asked one; I know that much, though the substance was lost on <b>me</b><b>. </b>
He only shakes his head, sighing softly as we emerge from the stairwell leading up from the gym. We’re both showered and dressed after our morning workout. I can’t pretend getting back into my routine hasn’t done wonders for my mental state. I lost sight of the important things for a minute there, but I’m back on track. No more heavy drinking, no more feeling sorry for myself. The only way out of a mess is through action, not wallowing.
Though it seems my thoughts are still wandering, and of course, there’s only one person to me. The girl currently out to brunch with my daughter. I’d much rather have her in bed with me the way she was when I woke up. By the time I was dressed for the gym, she was just beginning to stir after sleeping in on this fine Saturday morning.
“Costello,” I mutter once I’ve caught up to his train of thought, abandoning memories of Caterina’s sun–kissed skin for a moment. “No, I think we’re good. We’ll be able to tell him things have been quiettely.”
“I wonder if he dropped a hint somewhere that he’d clued you in,” Roger muses on our way down the hall. “That would exin why there’s been no more trouble on our barges.”
“Either that or Jack figures the message was sent. Let’s face it, he doesn’t have the manpower to defend what’s his if I decide to dere war. There’s only so far he can go. So long as we got <b>the </b>shipment back, that’s what matters<b>.</b><b>” </b>
“And Sebastian Costello gets his piece,” Roger adds with no small amount of bitterness, nodding to a pair of guards as we pass them in the hall.
“If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t have anything.” He holds his tongue, his jaw working like it’s a fight to keep his mouth shut. I understand why, whether he believes it or not. It was his quick thinking and the few well–timed phone calls that ended up finding those missing crates. I have no idea how he manages to hold so much information and so many contacts in his brain. The only thing I know is that he knew who to call once Costello confirmed it was Moroni behind the hijackings.
“Don’t worry<b>,</b>” I tell him once we enter my office. “You’ll get what’sing to you. I don’t forget the people who do right by me.”
“You know I wasn’t asking for anything special.”
“No, but you deserve it.” I groan and roll my eyes under his surprised stare. “Give me a break, would you? I’m trying to give credit where it’s due.”
“Then I guess I can’t get on your case for spacing out in the middle of <b>a </b>conversation.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It’s noticeable that the person you keep thinking about is the one who has you in this generous mood.”
“Noment.” He’s right, of course, but we’re not talking about my personal life right now.
The fact is, having Caterina here, under my roof has gone a long way toward helping me focus on what’s been evading my attentiontely. Nothing else matters more than my little bird, so knowing she’sing home to me at the end of the day goes a long way toward soothing the insatiable obsession. With my worries over her out of the way<b>, </b><b>I </b>can steer my attention back to
business.
“Which brings me to my next point.” Before he says another word, he holds up a hand and goes to the door, ncing both ways up and down the hall before closing it to give us privacy. “I installed the software on all devices on thework verday, excluding Caterina and Tatiana, as per your instructions<b>.</b><b>” </b>
“You’re sure the girls weren’t included?”
“I’m sure.” I blow out a relieved sigh. No way am I dealing with the whole invasion of privacy and wrath of shit. “Only the men
using thework got the d******d automatically pushed to their device.”
I was hoping it wouldn’t have had toe to this. However<b>, </b>some things are more important than what I was hoping for. <b>Hell</b><b>, </b><b>I </b>wish none of my guys were going behind iny back in the first ce Wishes <b>don’t </b>mean much.
“So any contact they have with Amalia…”
“<b>We’ll </b>know about it right away, in real–time. There’s no legitimate reason for any of them <b>to </b>reach out to her, after all.<b>” </b><b>He </b><b>takes </b>a <b>seat</b>, tapping on his tablet. “And<b>, </b><b>of </b>course, there’s tracking involved, too. I tested it all out, and it seems <b>to </b>be working fine.”
<b>“</b>I wish I could say I knew for sure whether I want something toe of this.”
The concern in his eyes tells me he understands. “Whoever it is<b>, </b><b>the </b>fact that they’ve gotten away with it for this long <b>means </b>they might get sloppy soon.”
“Here’s wishing.” I’m sick of the suspicion.
I slowly sip the coffee, which Sheryl was thoughtful enough to leave on the desk<b>–</b>or perhaps Caterina may have dropped it off on her way out. She is always taking care of me.
Which makes me chuckle, though not out of warmth or fondness. If anything, I’mughing at myself. <b>“</b><b>You </b>know<b>, </b>I never thought I’d identify so much with Charles Cole.”
“What do you mean?”